daveed and emmy oneshots

survival jobs

Being an artist meant giving your entire life to your craft even if no one noticed. It meant putting full effort and resources into one thing and hoping just one person would like it. To go against conventional ways and pursue the thing you are the most passionate about took strength, courage, and dedication to be able to weather through the storms of creativity.

These storms were constantly falling on Emmy as it seemed. She was working so hard on her craft, putting 110 every time, but it was seemingly impossible to get someone to notice it. She had some jobs but none were permanent, none even remotely stable enough for her to feel qualified to be labeled a "working artist."

Emmy faced the reflection looking back at her in the mirror. Someone checking their appearance in a uniform black tee, black jeans, and a hat looked back at her. When Emmy set out on her dreams, she knew it was a rocky road. Everyone, even strangers in dog parks, had warned her of the "starving artist" trope. Besides the confusion and rabbit hole of why that was people's first thoughts about her life choices, she didn't want to fall victim and be placed in that statistic.

She knew the lack of artistic jobs would still paint her as the starving-artist-with-no-job, but as long as she knew she had enough to get by, she was fine with that.

Emmy had worked odd jobs throughout high school and college, so she did have a foundation to work with during in-between job periods. However, this money was obviously not indefinite, and she would need something to supplement it.

She strapped on the last piece of her uniform, black nonslip shoes that completed the all black outfit. Emmy had gotten a job at Brown Bag Deli, a place she always passed during walks around the city, but had never really stopped inside.

Emmy grabbed all her things and headed out of her apartment, not wanting to be late on the first day. She walked outside down the familiar New York streets. The streets she hoped one day to make her mark on.

But for now she had to make it through this season of drought. She pushed the door open to the deli as a bell sounded. All kinds of welcomes were cheered at her from the few people working behind the counter. The deli was a small, nearly hole in the wall place with few employees and many regulars.

The manager who hired her walked out from behind the counter. He was a nice older man who had owned the shop for the last 15 years. He explained that today she would be shadowing and learning from another employee.

"Daveed," he called towards the back kitchen.

Moments later, an employee sauntered out of the doors. He was very tall and wearing the exact same uniform as Emmy. He had his hair pulled back into a ponytail and Emmy didn't miss the fact that he was very easy on the eyes.

"Hey," he smiled, reaching out his hand, "I'm Daveed."

"Emmy," she said, nodding and shaking his hand.

"So Daveed, just do what you do. Emmy watch and take it in," the older man said, walking away and leaving them alone.

Daveed motioned Emmy to follow him back. Through the doors was a wide kitchen with a line of ingredients she assumed were used to make sandwiches. There were rows of all kinds of stuff packed in the big but still fairly small kitchen.

"There's... a lot back here," Emmy said, looking around at everything.

"Yeah, it's gets overwhelming sometimes, especially during rush," Daveed said, grabbing a pair of gloves, and handing her a pair.

"I bet," she said," Thanks for the gloves," she nodded.

"No problem. You can help me with this order." Daveed said.